Stream of Consciousness

I remembered the Mastercard bill just in time. Since going paperless on a lot of our bills, I have trouble remembering them, even though I put reminders on my calendar. Of course, having a paper bill come in the mail doesn't always help. I finally put both the gas and electric bills on autopay, after paying them late a few times (Atmos, I believe, three months in a row). (Those Atmos people are patient, let me tell you!)

Our dishwasher is leaking, which is actually not a bad thing. It's never been great at getting the dishes clean, and I've learned to remember its eccentricities when loading it. (It doesn't clean well on the left side. No bowls of any kind in the bottom rack. And rinse, rinse, rinse everything.) I deliberately bought the extended warranty, planning to someday, when I got around to it, the minute I had a minute, schedule a service call to see if they improve its performance. Now that it's not draining, but instead just letting the dirty dishwater drain out the bottom of the door, it's forcing my hand. GE Authorized Repair and I have a date Saturday morning.

This is the cat pedestal that got wet.
Izzy likes to hang out on it. Yes, in this
position. (She cracks me up!)

We discovered the leak when I moved the cat pedestal we keep in the kitchen. Originally, it was there to help tiny kittens make it up to the counter, where the cats eat (cat food is bad for dogs, and that guarantees they can't get to it). Now that they're all adults, it's there to trick the cats into believing they can't jump up on the counter by themselves. So if we move the pedestal away from the counter, they're flummoxed (and whatever we need to keep them out of stays undisturbed). I moved it yesterday to get to the cabinet behind it, and it left a soggy trail across the floor. We looked, and the carpet on the bottom had absorbed a great deal of water, which we finally discovered was coming from the dishwasher. It's outside now, upside down, drying out. And the dishwasher repair guy comes Saturday.

I've finally, finally scheduled the first Oktoberfest meeting. That one is just with the guys from the event planning company and the city employees they'll have to work with. I talked to the event guys, then scheduled a meeting. Then they emailed the next day to say they needed to change the time. Not a good sign of things to come.

Yesterday I got the worst criticism of my work that I've ever gotten from a client. It was demoralizing, especially considering it was of a first draft, and the worst part was that they just said it was bad (over and over), and didn't give any kind of hint about what they wanted it to actually sound like. I have to guess. (Seriously, do you think I'm going to call and give them a chance to scold me on the phone?) I'm going to give them the best work I can possibly produce, and after Friday, one way or another, we're going to be done.

My friend Barry, the Realtor, is trying to sell a house that's on the market because one of the owners murdered her husband in it. Yeah. How do you price that?

I've been feeling sad & missing JR all day, though I don't miss shrill barking, yelping and screaming every time he had to stay in his kennel. Nor do I miss having to take him on walks six or seven times a day. I didn't mind the walks themselves, actually, just having to do it.

I know, I know. I'm a princess. Or a little bitch. I called several of the Calgary Flames players that very thing on Monday night, while they were playing against the Stars. Maybe it does take one to know one.